


You Can Watch

by whatsup_buttercup



Series: Showtime [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (does this count as light?), Aftercare, Anal Sex, BDSM, Butt Plugs, Collars, Consent, Cunnilingus, Exhibitionism, Leashes, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Nipple Clamps, Praise Kink, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, SOMEHOW STILL SAPPY, Sex Club, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 03:28:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10733208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsup_buttercup/pseuds/whatsup_buttercup
Summary: Still, always, Viktor asks. “You’re so lovely,” he says, kissing Yuuri’s cheek, his forehead, each eyelash. “Would you like to put on a show, Beautiful?”People have been looking at Viktor all day, in and out of the competition. Viktor had medaled, of course, gold. Interviews and photoshoots and selfies with fans. Yuuri’s skin feels tight. “Yes,” Yuuri breathes, kissing Viktor again, slower and filthier. “Yes, please. Please.”





	You Can Watch

It’s not the first time, it’s not the last time, this hotel. Yuuri itches with the need for this, after the interviews and fans and cameras. Viktor can tell. Anyone looking at their body language towards the end of Viktor’s interview can tell, probably; Yuuri’s shoulder angled close in front of Viktor, the firm way he’d grabbed the medalist’s hand and _pulled_ him away. Question time is over. People can stop looking at Viktor _right now_.

A younger Yuuri would have been wide-eyed at the blatant display of concentrated wealth in the hotel lobby. The current Yuuri leads Viktor in by the hand, chin up, back straight, barely noting the decor. It’s nothing gaudy, dark woods and furniture so elegant in their simplicity they might has well have been fashioned out of gold and diamonds, too expensive for his blood. The lights are dim, the atmosphere rich and hushed and waiting. The staff recognizes them and is bowing and providing them with a golden room key so quickly that they barely have to break stride.

“So eager,” Viktor says, in the velvet-lined elevator.

Yuuri feels hot, burning. He pulls Viktor down for a hard kiss, fisting both hands in Viktor’s suit. Viktor kisses back with the same passion.

Sometimes it ends in the hotel room, sweetly, slowly. The reason for choosing this hotel over their apartment isn’t a mandate. Sometimes, Yuuri’s body will say yes, yes, yes when his mind puts up a block right around the time the lock clicks in the door, and that’s okay. As long as they’re together, side by side and on the same page, it’s all okay. Viktor will meet Yuuri where he is.

Tonight Yuuri’s mind is saying yes, yes, yes, right along with his body.

Still, always, Viktor asks. “You’re so lovely,” he says, kissing Yuuri’s cheek, his forehead, each eyelash. “Would you like to put on a show, Beautiful?”

People have been looking at Viktor all day, in and out of the competition. Viktor had medaled, of course, gold. Interviews and photoshoots and selfies with fans. Yuuri’s skin feels tight. “Yes,” Yuuri breathes, kissing Viktor again, slower and filthier. “Yes, please. Please.”

The hotel is next to a very special kind of club. Viktor and Yuuri aren’t regulars there, the way some people are at a bar or cafe, but they appear often enough that when they walk through the discreet entrance the bouncer nods, smiling. The bouncer isn’t there to control a large crowd or manage a line outside, he’s there, muscles and tattoos, to make sure the guests inside are kept in only the best of company. You apply to join this club, personally and monetarily.

Eager, Yuuri pulls a very pleased Viktor to their usual spot. It’s dark, with clusters of low furniture on top of deep wood flooring. The crimson couches and chairs are grouped in rough circles. Their usual area is empty, but it won’t be for long. Viktor and Yuuri never want for an audience; Yuuri’s aching with need to perform. Viktor sits in a plush chair and Yuuri straddles his lap and presses in for another searing kiss.

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, warm, hot, aching. Yuuri likes his voice that way, gasping against his mouth and arching his back as Viktor kneads his ass through his pants.

They just kiss for a while, until Yuuri’s lips are flush and red from it. His glasses are back on the nightstand in their hotel, so the figures gathering around them are blurred at the edges. Their audience arrives, alone and in pairs, filling the seats.

“Hey there, Beautiful,” Viktor says, voice husky right into the shell of Yuuri’s ear. Yuuri shivers at the endearment, one that is only used in this context. “It’s just about showtime. Are you ready?”

They can end here, and it will be fine, Yuuri knows with unshakable certainty. They can go back to the hotel or all the way back home; Viktor will say darling, love, my sweet Yuuri. It’s happened before, Viktor is never upset when Yuuri’s anxiety crashes in, used to it as he now is.

Yuuri looks into Viktor’s serious blue eyes and says clearly, “Yes, please.” He shifts so his back is to Viktor’s chest, closes his eyes and bares his neck, tiling his head to the side.

Viktor’s hands are smooth and steady, unhurried as he unbuttons the top of Yuuri’s shirt. With each button more of his neck and chest is exposed, the air feels cold on his flushed skin. He’s running even hotter than normal. Viktor’s elegant fingers remain strictly on the white shirt, deliberately not touching Yuuri’s skin as he reveals more and more of it to the eyes of the crowd.

Yuuri has always been self-conscious. Black hair, brown eyes, a traitorously fluctuating weight and an unimpressive face, despite what Viktor insists, again and again, he’s unremarkable, he knows that. The old Yuuri, the younger Yuuri, would never have imagined in a million years that he’d love to do this, take such a thrill from showing off his body to strangers.

It’s a fact that Yuuri wants to make his audience feel good, when he skates. It had been a revelation to learn just how much the presence of beautiful, perfect Viktor could reframe his desires. On display like this, in Viktor’s lap, clearly Viktor’s, Viktor _clearly_ his, it makes him so hot sometimes he can barely hold it in. Everyone needs to see.

The last button is undone. Yuuri, eyes still down, submissively lets Viktor pull the shirt off him. It’s all part of the performance, the way Viktor folds it neatly and sets it aside. Yuuri toes off his shoes and socks, leaning over to set them to the side, so he’s barefoot and shirtless in Viktor’s lap, wanting.

Viktor reaches in his pocket and pulls out the supple leather collar. It’s about a finger’s width wide, black with a gold clasp. Viktor’s fingers brush his neck lightly as he puts it on, and Yuuri smiles at the faint tremor he feels in Viktor’s touch. He wants this too, perhaps just as badly. The collar is snug but not tight, and when Viktor clips in the leash to the hook Yuuri visibly shivers. The band around Yuuri’s neck, the leash in Viktor’s hand, it explicitly, physically says: I’m his, he’s mine. Mine.

“So beautiful,” Viktor says, and his voice is louder, stronger, for the ears of the gathered crowd as well. It’s starting. “So eager. You’ve been waiting for this all day, haven’t you?”

He has. He _has_. “Yes,” Yuuri admits, fighting for at least a semblance of control this early on. He can feel the gaze of the crowd on him like a physical thing, eager, anticipating.

“Tell me what you want,” Viktor says, and Yuuri has to take a deep, steadying breath. Viktor isn’t even touching him and his cock is so hard and aching, still behind two layers of fabric.

“I want,” Yuuri says, loud enough for the audience, “you to touch me, please.” His voice shakes a little.

“Where should I touch you, Beautiful?” Viktor’s voice does not shake, but it’s comforting to feel how hard he is too, from where Yuuri’s seated in his lap. Yuuri can feel the shape of his arousal against his ass.

Anywhere. Everywhere. Yuuri knows he has to be specific in this, though. “Please play with my nipples,” he says, and flushes, the words somehow getting to him in a way the actions so far has not. That’s why he is made to say them, of course.

“Of course. Anything you want.” There’s a smile in his voice. Viktor’s hand comes up to press two fingers against his lips and Yuuri opens his mouth automatically, sucking on Viktor’s fingers as they press in and coating them liberally in saliva. He moans as Viktor adds a third finger, and then a fourth, lips stretching wide. Out of the corner of his eye Yuuri sees a man start to stroke himself through his pants. Good.

Yuuri gives Viktor’s fingers one last suck as he pulls them away from his mouth and down to his right nipple. Yuuri’s always been sensitive there, careful to wear undershirts and even athletic tape during practice to stop painful chafing and embarrassing perking. Viktor circles the little pink nub with his wet finger slowly until Yuuri lets out a needy little sound, then Viktor pinches his nipple between thumb and forefinger, rubbing back and forth on the edge of painful with steady pressure. Yuuri can’t help the sounds that start tumbling from his throat, one after the other, until he’s panting with it. When Viktor moves his attention from the right nipple to the left and does the same torturous process there, he nearly comes undone. They’re going to be bruised, absolutely, and later when they’re alone Viktor will no doubt scatter feather-light kisses over each one in apology. Now, though, Yuuri can only focus on what’s coming next, what he knows Viktor’s brought along in his pocket and how good it will feel.

A few more people in their audience are touching themselves now, and Yuuri glows with a fierce pride and desire as he pants and moans. Viktor’s so good with his fingers, breaking Yuuri apart with even this touch; Viktor is doing this to _Yuuri_ , on display.

They’d picked out the nipple clamps together, a few weeks ago, but there hasn’t been a chance to use them in a performance before now. They’re black metal with silicone tips, connected by a thin gold chain that glints in the low light when Viktor pulls the toy out of his suit pocket.

“Is this okay, love?” Viktor murmurs, soft against his ear. This is new and he’s seeking reassurance and consent, again.

“Yes,” Yuuri gasps out, still so hot and tight with need.

It hurts, the tight pressure of the first clamp on his abused nipple. He gasps, somehow not ready for it. He tenses up as Viktor lines up the second clamp, and lets out a keening cry when it closes around the base of his erect nub. With both clamps in, the weight of the gold chain between them pulls both points of his chest downward. It’s wonderful, sharp pain and pleasure, so real and immediate, put there by Viktor’s hands.

His pants are still on, so tight, painful in a different but very urgent way. “Viktor,” he gasps. “Please.”

Viktor tugs the chain on his chest gently, with one finger, and watches Yuuri’s face as he tilts his head back and screams a moan. “Please what, Beautiful?”

“Please.” Yuuri tries to gather his scattered thoughts together.

Viktor takes pity on him, tilting Yuuri’s head to kiss his sweaty cheek and down his neck. “All right, darling. Let’s show everyone the rest of you.”

Viktor nudges him forward, off his lap, and Yuuri stands up on shaky legs. The chain between his nipples swings and he’s so hard it’s difficult to focus on everything he feels.

This is all part of the show, though. Consciously, Yuuri squares his shoulders and lifts his chin, his posture befitting the dancer he is. He looks over his shoulder at Viktor, licks his lips and blows a kiss, then looks over the audience, gaze passing over their faces and taking in just how many people are pleasuring themselves openly at the display. It gives him new strength, to shift his hips from side to side and slowly, teasingly, unbutton his pants. He pulls them down one inch, two, until they’re sliding and revealing the swell of his cheeks. It’s still skating season so Yuuri’s ass and thighs are thick with muscle, not as plush as the off-season but still firm and desirable, the strength easily visible through his tight black briefs.

Yuuri shimmies out of his pants, letting them fall to the ground. It would be simpler to just skip underwear altogether on these nights, but the extra layer prolongs the show. In just his briefs, nipple clamps, and his gold ring, Yuuri turns to face Viktor. Then he bends bends over so he’s looking at the crowd from between his spread legs and pulls his underwear off in one slick movement. It frees his erect cock to bob in the air and reveals the jewel-studded base of the butt plug between his cheeks to the crowd. Hands shaking, he reaches behind himself to spread his cheeks open wider and put everything on display before all the eyes; the toy, his abused nipples, and how furiously aroused he is by it all.

He keeps the pose for one breath, two, before Viktor says in a tight voice, “Come here.”

Yuuri stands and turns. Viktor and Yuuri meet each other’s eyes and share the same delight and passion and deep, deep arousal; passing between them and growing into a crescendo.

Yuuri’s leash is still in Viktor’s hand, but the fingers gripping it are white-knuckled. There’s still so much more to come, the show barely begun. Yuuri sits back in Viktor’s lap, the butt plug shifting deep within him.

Viktor’s hand on Yuuri’s chin is gentle as he directs Yuuri’s gaze to the people watching. “Look what you’ve done, Beautiful. You’re making everyone so aroused. What are you going to do about it?”

The first time Yuuri had done this, in the heat of the moment, riding on a high and eager to give Viktor a surprise, Viktor had been absolutely floored. Viktor loves surprises and Yuuri hopes to never stop bringing him new experiences.

“May I,” Yuuri says, looking up at Viktor through his eyelashes and feeling power pulse through his veins, “please suck them off?”

“You want to put strangers' cocks in your mouth? You want to suck their dicks until they cum in your mouth?” It's filthy, put in plain words.

“Yes.” It doesn’t matter who's dick he’ll be sucking; they don’t matter. This is all a show for Viktor and a show for Yuuri; everything and everyone else is scenery. “I want to suck their cocks and show off how good I am for you.”

“Go ahead then, Beautiful. On your knees.” Yuuri’s leash isn’t very long, so he kneels down in front of Viktor’s knees and opens his mouth. A stout, well-muscled man steps forward first. Yuuri doesn’t look up at his face, eyes instead focused on the erection he’s stroking, fat and wide, jutting out of his unbuttoned pants. Viktor’s hand comes to rest at the back of Yuuri's head, fingers curling possessively at the base of his skull and providing a solid connection between them, not forcing him to do anything.

Yuuri leans forward and instead of licking the dripping head of the man’s cock, presses forward and wetly mouths the stranger’s ballsack. It’s musky and unfamiliar, his nose brushes the underside of the man’s dick with every movement, but it’s completely worth it for the sharp inhale he hears from Viktor and the way his long fingers tighten in Yuuri’s hair.

Yuuri moans and licks up the underside of the cock. It isn’t very long, but it’s stout and thick and veined. When he gets to the slit at the head he dips his tongue inside and sucks at the crown, slow, rhythmic, then takes it all into his mouth in one go, hollowing out his cheeks and trying to get the man to cum as fast as possible. He bobs his head up and down and moans deep in his throat. He’ll suck this cock, then another, then another and maybe he’ll be able to chase his own release. Maybe he’ll be able to suck Viktor off, in front of everyone, show off how well he can break Viktor apart with just his mouth.

Yuuri thinks about Viktor’s heavy, familiar cock as he sucks and bobs his head. The man’s close already, his breathing erratic, and Yuuri keeps using his tongue until hot semen is shooting right into Yuuri’s mouth. He doesn’t swallow, not yet, instead opening his mouth and letting the still-orgasming dick slide out, holding its base with his hands so the stranger is still coming on his face. Some cum spurts hit his tongue, others spread over his cheeks and forehead, covering his face in sticky semen. Mouth still filled with cum, Yuuri makes eye contact with Viktor again, so hot, burning. Viktor’s flushed, pupils dilated, mouth just a little open in shock. Message received.

Then he swallows, throat bobbing, and drops his hands from the man’s dick. Doesn’t know what his face looks like and could not care less.

Maybe he will get to suck Viktor off next after all. The expression on his face is so intense, the fingers in his hair gripping tight.

Another man walks up, tall and dark. His cock isn’t out. Yuuri reaches out to undo his fly, but the man backs away a little bit and addresses Viktor.

“Your beautiful pet is putting on quite a show,” he says, and his voice has a deep accent Yuuri can’t place. “I was wondering if you’d like to have him play with one of mine? It seems like they’d get along.”

The club is mostly men, by its nature, but women aren’t exactly rare. The man gestures to a naked young woman with long brown hair, sitting demurely on a nearby chair with a collar around her neck. Her breasts are heavy and full, her eye makeup strong and glittery, and her nipples clamped in the same way as Yuuri’s.

A woman. Yuuri’s never–that’s never been an avenue he’s pursued, even in fantasy.

It’s different. Viktor would be surprised.

“What were you thinking?” Viktor asks the man.

“He’s so good with his mouth. I doubt he’s tasted a woman before; I thought he might enjoy fucking her with his tongue.”

 _Fucking_ someone isn’t something Yuuri does, with tongue or otherwise. Being dominant in that way sets his anxiety off in an instant, he much prefers being fucked and filled and loved by Viktor and Viktor alone. They may perform and they may play, but it never progresses to someone else taking Yuuri. Or anyone else ever, ever touching Viktor.

Viktor kneels down and looks Yuuri in the eyes, fully serious, questioning.

“Yes,” Yuuri says, and then, because he has to verbalize his consent more clearly than that, “Yes, I’d like to fuck her with my tongue,” _for you to see_.

Viktor looks shaken and so, so aroused. “All right, Beautiful.”

They pull up a chair nearby, so Viktor can still be holding Yuuri’s leash, and the woman sits down, spreading her legs wide and holding them apart with her knees to her shoulders. The pose frames her fat breasts and makes the chain connecting her nipples shake briefly.

The folds of her sex are unfamiliar. The pose has spread her lips apart enough to reveal her pink, wet hole. He doesn’t feel any arousal at the sight of her pussy, but when he pictures the expression on Viktor’s face it’s easy to lean forward and lick each side of her cunt. The taste is startlingly different, not salty like semen but still acidic and drippingly wet. He does have basic knowledge of how females work in _general_ so it is with purpose that Yuuri licks up to the top of her pussy and suckles on her clit. Viktor’s fingers are still tight in his hair as she moans, breathy.

“Put your tongue inside her cunt and fuck her the way you like to be fucked in the ass.” The man with the accent directs.

Yuuri does as instructed, pressing his tongue forward and fucking her with it wetly. The pose puts his nose into her closely-cropped pubic hair. She moans. Yuuri moans too when Viktor leans in to get a better look at Yuuri’s face, which is a mess of dried semen and spit. His tongue is getting tired, pushing in and out of her again and again.

“Slide in your middle finger all the way and suck on her clit,” Viktor says, somehow still in an even tone. His eyes are wild though.

Yuuri slides his finger in and marvels at how easy it is. It would be so much simpler if his ass didn’t require so much lube and stretching before sex, like this dripping pussy. Viktor could just slide into him when the mood struck. Yuuri curls his finger into her, still licking and moaning and thinking of Viktor.

“Add two more fingers and fuck her with them,” the man instructs. She’s breathing hard and fast, now, pushing her hips up against Yuuri’s mouth. Yuuri slides his middle finger out and then presses in three fingers at once, fingerfucking her fast and rough and using his thumb to rub her clit. Yuuri’s face is ruined, covered in cum, spit, and slick, flushed with exertion.

She comes with a high, keening cry suddenly, pressing her hips against his fingers. Yuuri knows how good it feels to be fucked through the aftershocks of his own orgasm, so he keeps his fingers moving through it, pulling out once her body relaxes.

Viktor’s pulling him up by his leash before he even has time to settle and into Viktor’s lap. _Finally_. His nipples are so sore and tender from the clamps and his erection, which had flagged while he was eating out the woman’s pussy, swells back fully as Viktor arranges him in his lap with legs splayed wide. He has Yuuri hold his knees up by his shoulders, spread in the same way the woman had been, and reaches down without preamble to pull on the jeweled base of his butt plug. “Please,” Yuuri says, “please.”

The base of the butt plug is flared and wide, keeping the entire thing from sliding into him while also keeping his ass stretched and well-lubed. When Viktor pulls, the thin point he’s clenched around pulls out and drags the bulbous end of the plug against the thick ring of muscle at his entrance. Yuuri moans, loud and throaty, as Viktor pulls the plug all the way out and then slides it back in, fucking him with it. Yuuri, too wild with lust for restraint, thrusts his hips forward, cock bobbing in empty air.

“So beautiful,” Viktor says, grinding up against Yuuri in his lap, truly a sign that he’s lost control.

“Viktor,” Yuuri says, “ _Please_ let me cum, please-”

That seems to snap Viktor out of it. He stills. "Not yet."

Yuuri can't stop the whimper that tears from him at that. There's no friction against where he needs it most. His legs tremble with the effort of staying spread wide. The plug in his ass isn't nearly enough. Viktor moves his hand slowly, fingers trailing, from the end of the plug up to the dangling chain between his nipples.

He tugs, once, twice. Again, again. It hurts, Yuuri's so sensitive there. The sounds falling from his lips aren't words but the desperate plea in them is clear. 

His eyes have clenched shut, blocking out everything except the sharp feeling from his nipples. They must be so red and peaked, so lewd.

"Look, Beautiful. No one can take their eyes off of you." 

They're not on a stage. Their play certainly isn't the only performance going on in this club, on a busy Friday night. Even so, their audience is undeniable. Yuuri boldly meets their gazes. He'll be embarrassed about this later; right now he only feels pride. They all can only dream about being Viktor's, about Viktor being theirs. 

Viktor reaches down to play with the plug again, teasing it in and out. It's a kind of special torture, a slow drag as he's filled and emptied. His skin feels electric, his ears fill with a special kind of static as he's pushed further and further to the edge. He must be making desperate sounds, begging without words, it's so good but not enough, _please_.

Finally, finally, Viktor relents. Yuuri lets out a whine as the plug is fully removed. He thinks it’s silly that he didn’t want Viktor to fuck him in public, before, because now that’s what he dearly wants, Viktor’s heavy cock in his ass. He’s empty now and he aches, badly.

“Fuck me,” he begs, incoherent. “Please, fuck me hard, Viktor, please, you know I’m made for your cock, I want to show everyone how well I take your cock up my ass, please.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, voice unsteady, filled with the same need. “Look at me. Is that really what you want? You want me to fuck you right here?”

Viktor’s using his name, not an endearment, and that’s enough to pull back the burning flames of arousal, space to consider, time to think. Yuuri meets Viktor’s eyes and says, “Yes, please, that’s what I want. Please fuck me.”

Shaky with arousal, Yuuri gets to the floor on his hands and knees and presents himself to Viktor. He does _not_ like the fact that people are seeing Viktor’s erection, as he tugs it out of his expensive slacks, but he’s ecstatic about the fact that they’ll soon be seeing it buried balls-deep inside Yuuri, again and again. They’re both down to no patience at this point. The chain between Yuuri’s nipples arches down low to touch the floor and his cock is still completely, painfully untouched.

Viktor lines up with his still-slick hole and presses in, inch by inch, slow but constant. It’s perfect, it’s exactly what he needs. The sensation of being filled is so delicious it make him weak, pressing his forehead to the floor when his arms can't hold him up anymore. After a very brief adjustment, Viktor begins to fuck Yuuri in earnest, finding the right angle to hit Yuuri’s prostate and make him see stars with each thrust. Yuuri’s usually a lot more lubed up and gently, thoroughly stretched out before this, but right now it’s perfect, even the slight burn, knowing that he’ll really, really feel this in the morning, a physical memory.

The leash still in his hand, Viktor leans over and says in his ear, loud enough for the crowd to hear, “You are perfect, Beautiful, I love you, the only person I want to be with is you, forever, my sweet, darling, perfect-”

Yuuri’s orgasm hits him like a freight train, sudden and overwhelming, hot spurts of his come streaking down all over the floor as Viktor fucks him through it. He screams, louder and more vocal than ever. Viktor keeps thrusting into his oversensitive ass, finally reaching down to grip his spent cock and cup his balls, sending sparks of too-much over Yuuri’s nerves, drawing out broken sounds from Yuuri. Then he reaches a bit further up, as his thrusts get more erratic, and pulls in each nipple clamp in turn. It’s the sound that Yuuri makes then that undoes him, pressing forward and filling Yuuri up with his cum, for the first time with an audience. The air stinks of sex.

It takes time, slow, panting, for Yuuri to come back to himself. By then Viktor has pulled out and tucked himself back into his pants with shaking hands. A line of Viktor’s wet cum drips out of his ass and down his thigh as Yuuri tries to get his breathing back to normal, still on his hands and knees on display, fucked and wholly Viktor Nikiforov’s.

It was a hell of a show.

Warm, loving arms pull him back into Viktor’s lap, rub his sweaty back in slow circles. Yuuri presses his messy face to Viktor’s neck and accepts soft kiss after soft kiss, gentle on his hair, forehead, shoulder, everywhere Viktor can reach. It takes a while for him to tune in to what Viktor’s whispering against him, just a litany of “I love you, I love you, I love you, Beautiful.”

“I love you,” Yuuri whispers back, still overwhelmed with everything.

Viktor releases the clamps on each of Yuuri’s nipples, leaning down to kiss each sore nub in soft apology. Even the light brush of Viktor’s lips causes a shot of pain to shudder through his body and make his spent cock twitch. Yuuri very much enjoyed the use of that toy; he knows it will be a while before he’s healed up enough to use it again. Viktor absolutely does not like hurting him; Yuuri will have to wait and heal and beg for it next time, to convince Viktor how much he enjoys it, how the pain isn’t _too much_ but _just enough_.

The show’s over, finale complete. Viktor wipes Yuuri’s face with the expensive pocket square from his suit but it’s a lost cause, cum having dried in shiny trails long ago. He's a steady, attentive presence as he helps Yuuri into his pants, leg by leg, stopping to kiss him after each step. Yuuri’s legs are weak and his mind fuzzy, Viktor’s hands on him the only stable thing. He buttons up Yuuri’s shirt, then sits him in a chair and reverently puts on his socks and shoes, stopping to kiss each ankle.

Yuuri's dazed but at least now dressed. Viktor reaches up to unhook the leash and slide it back, folded, into his pocket. He reaches for the collar, too, but Yuuri stops his hand. He isn’t ready to take it off yet, its steady weight a comfort.

That just leaves the butt plug, still slick with lube. The jewels at its base are blue and white, sparkling in the low light as Yuuri picks it up off of the floor. “We should have put it back inside me,” he says, unthinking.

Viktor makes a choked sound, kissing Yuuri again, pulling the plug out of Yuuri’s hands and sliding the filthy thing into his other pocket. It doesn’t fit; the lube is probably already staining Viktor’s ridiculously expensive suit. He doesn’t care, eyes sparkling just like the jewels.

“Later, darling,” he says, pulling Yuuri up and cuddling him close on their short walk back to the hotel. The staff makes no comments at their debauched looks as they head straight for the elevator and up to their room.

Yuuri is Japanese and has very strict feelings about baths. You don’t wash in the same place that you soak; luckily in this hotel they don’t have to. Viktor and Yuuri undress again, Viktor tenderly washing Yuuri’s face, his hair, his body under the spray of the shower. Once all the filth is washed away, Viktor pulls his dazed lover into the separate, deep bathtub. Yuuri feels like a limp doll, well-loved, relaxed. Happy. It’s been a long, long day.

“I love you so much, Yuuri.” The way Viktor says his name, curling around the vowels, is music itself; a song Yuuri knows, intimate.

“Viktor,” Yuuri says, looking up into Viktor’s eyes through his dark eyelashes. “I love you so much. Don’t take your eyes off of me.”

Viktor’s laugh is warm and rich and fond. “Yuuri, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you if I tried.”

**Author's Note:**

> Never published smut before (￣▽￣*)ゞ
> 
> Takes place sometime when they're both competing together, after a Russian event Viktor is skating in and Yuuri is not. I know you all appreciate a good timeline with your porn, so there you go.
> 
> Also the club is super hella expensive, everyone there is tested and STI-free, and it is cleaned very thoroughly, very often. FYI. Put your worries to rest about the fictional sex club, friends.
> 
> No beta because I couldn't look anyone in the eye and admit I wrote this.


End file.
